a love story, in six parts
by indelible
Summary: In an unforeseeable future, Haruhi drops out of law school, and things eventually work out. TamakiHaruhi


a love story, in six parts

* * *

SCENE ONE

**setting: winter, in the highway**

Two vehicles are noticeable in the darkness of this night. The first car is a white limousine, flashy and elegant, and the second is a truck that gleams like a newly-bought car (it probably is). An accident has occurred a few miles away, so they wait patiently in traffic amidst the gloom that permeates the air.

The man in the limousine's passenger seat checks his watch for the fifteenth time that night. His eyes glint with something unreadable, and his lips twist into a smile.

MAN: Damn. I knew I should have taken the helicopter.

* * *

TWO

**her**

I think I fell in love with him that night.

I've never really been in love before. It wasn't in my nature to focus all my emotions into one specific person. Someone (I don't remember who; it's impossible to remember now) once told me that my selflessness prevented me from any sort of romantic inclinations towards anyone. Did that mean that I became selfish in exchange? To want to love and be loved by only one person, to feel envy towards anyone he showed any excessive interest to – was that what I gave up my former self for? (she purses her lips, then taps her fingers on her knee)

Sometimes I wish that I could turn back to what I was then. It isn't easy – changing, I mean. If I had the capacity to, then I would be a lawyer now. But, as it is, I'm a social worker, and I don't regret it. I don't think I failed my mother; she would have been proud either way. Who I failed was myself, for not being able to fulfill the promise I made in my younger years. (here she pauses and takes a deep breath, as if to regain her strength)

It didn't matter – that was what he told me, the first time I saw him after dropping out of law school. He'd heard the news through Kyouya-senpai (who was studying in the same school I was). Would you believe that he booked the earliest flight from Paris to Tokyo and went to my house with a truck full of ootoro at four in the morning to cheer me up? (laughs) Yeah, I knew he was insane, but I didn't think he was _that_ insane. The snow must have frozen his brain or something. (her smile turns soft, and her eyes become distant, as if she is recalling a beautiful memory) Still, I think that part of him was what I liked best. Not the excessiveness, I mean, but the effort he put into the things he treasured. It took all of my self-control not to cry in front of him. I may have slammed the door in his face just to calm my nerves.

All I knew was that his presence on the other side of that door made my throat lock up, and I felt an intolerable constricting in my chest.

I think it was my heart, but I thought, no, it couldn't be.

(pause)

I think I was pretty good at deluding myself, then.

* * *

SCENE THREE

**setting: a mid-summer afternoon in a park somewhere in Tokyo, Japan**

A young woman sits on one side of a public bench near the fountain. Her hands are folded neatly on her lap, perhaps because of years spent in formal settings one can expect a (former) law student to be in. The summer dress she wears is violet, and the hat that covers her short brown hair and partially conceals her eyes from the sun is immaculately white, as if it has been bought from the store only minutes before. When a breeze blows her hat away, she sits quite still.

In the distance, she can see it flutter in the air, away from her grasp, and into the hands of a man who raises his arm in a greeting, or in triumph. And, oh, the color of her dress is reflected in his eyes -- or, perhaps, she is imagining it. When he smiles at her, his eyes light up, and after that it is so very hard to tell.

* * *

FOUR

**him**

My wife tells me that I should cut the story short and "not go into hysterics about one true love", I quote. I guess I've become pretty laid-back after marrying her. (laughs) People tell me I've matured. I wonder now if it was because of her, or simply because I had to become more serious.

After the fiasco with the ootoro (her favorite food, though she couldn't afford to indulge in it too much; I still say I didn't go overboard with the year's supply of it!), I spent a few months in the country. We usually went out, though she point-blank refused to call it dating. We'd meet in a commoner's park, like all the books I've read on dating said, and get ice cream and talk. My darling daughter – oh, sorry, that's a habit of mine; usually people would stare at us whenever I referred to her as such in private gatherings – would wear a dress, usually to appease my wheedling. Would you blame me for asking it of her? When you spend your high school years with the love of your life who constantly cross-dressed kind of gets to you, sometimes. I just wanted to see her in all her feminine glory. (laughs) She didn't care anyway.

Somehow I convinced her that quitting law school wasn't the worst decision of her life (even now, she'd blandly inform me that it was marrying me, but I know she's only joking – at least, I hope she is). Eventually, she decided to take up a course that involved helping people in a more direct and emotional level. (pause) She always did have a way with dealing with people. It was probably because she won a genetic lottery and managed to get the magnetic ability of charming people with simply being herself, speaking on an unbiased level, of course. But that isn't just what I love about her.

On the other hand, was I merely hanging around for that? I think a small, secret part of me intended to court her with little use of the pretty phrases or grand gestures I became accustomed to in my days with the host club. But that doesn't matter now, I guess.

I did marry her, after all.

* * *

SCENE FIVE

**setting: a private plane parked in the airport**

A man in his twenties sits on a comfortable chair in the plane, but his face shows little satisfaction at leaving. Instead, his eyes are narrowed and his mouth is set in a firm line. If one looked closely, he could see the slight trembling of his lips, the quivering of his eyelids as his fingers lay on the smooth expanse of his cheek.

His cellphone vibrates in his pocket, and his eyes widen slightly as he reads the message. He manages to stand without knocking over anything near his seat, and, when the attendant asks, he shrugs and says, "bathroom break".

Before his body leaves the plane entirely, he turns back with the well-practiced air of a tragic hero from the gentry.

MAN: Cancel my flight, I have a love story to save.

The attendant nods, bemused.

He'll probably never get used to his employer's eccentricity.

* * *

SIX

**in conclusion**

If anyone asked, she would say she cared for him less than he did for her, and she would not be entirely right.

If anyone asked, he would say he never really loved her as much as she deserved, and he wouldn't be entirely wrong.

If anyone asked, they would not be able to answer.

Their silence would have been enough of an answer.

* * *

**( and they lived happily ever after )**


End file.
